


Kisses of Camouflage

by AstralAlmighty



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Kisses, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, ah yes the classic trope of “we’re hiding from guards and making out in an alley”, no beta we die like stregobor fucking should have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstralAlmighty/pseuds/AstralAlmighty
Summary: To put it simply, a bard sees his Witcher and some Nifguarrdian soldiers, what else was he supposed to do?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 198





	Kisses of Camouflage

**Author's Note:**

> Oi, this popped into my head and I wrote it. Enjoy.

Geralt turned around the corner into the market, his hair tied back and his hood pulled up.

Ciri was waiting outside the city, and they had needed to stop by for supplies. With no other well supplied town until Kaedwen, they were forced to stop. 

Geralt passed another notice board, sparkling with wanted signs for himself, Ciri, and a multitude of other people. He checked them once in a while, but now was not the time.

Gripping his bag tighter, Geralt pushed through the throngs of people. Few shied away from him, partly because of Jaskier, and partly because of the refuge panic.

Nifguarrd was approaching, and fast. If Geralt didn’t get Ciri to the keep in time, they’d have nowhere to hide, except for maybe Oxenfurt. 

He hadn’t seen Jaskier in over a year, hadn’t heard of him in months. If he was alive-and that was a rather frightening if-Geralt didn’t know if he would listen. He would bend for Ciri, but Geralt wasn’t guilt tripping Jaskier into anything, the bard deserved better than that. A flutter of fear passed over Geralt, and he walked faster. 

Fuck. He should’ve gone after Jaskier months ago.

Pressing through the crowd, parents held children close to their chests, orphans scrambled for something to rely on, the few elderly sat and begged. The army may not have gone past Sodden, but it’s effect spread farther. 

Sodden. Yennefer. 

The stories of a purple-eyed savior had spread across the Continent through song. A good song, if Geralt said so himself. It was hopeful, but almost in mourning, and somehow it managed to strike fear into the audience. Geralt wondered who had written it.

But Yennefer? Geralt had no idea. He wanted to find her, apologize, but he didn’t know where she was. And what did he even want from her? What did she mean to him? 

Drawing a blank on a lost bard was one thing, drawing a blank on your intimidating sorceress ex, that was another.

A bard’s voice passed through the crowds. A song of loss, one that told of a lover losing her husband. Depressing, but accurate, and written by Jaskier. 

When had he written it? A year or so before Pavetta’s betrothal feast. Inspiration had apparently struck when Jaskier witnessed a widow weeping over another grave. And well, the song wrote itself. 

Geralt pressed back through the people. Shit, this crowd was big. He turned a corner into the square, where the gates were. Glancing up, he saw the familiar black and gold.

Shit.

There were two more behind him.

Fuck.

A small wave of panic washed over Geralt, and he spun, looking for a way out. He was far too recognizable, and had nowhere to hide.

Taking a step in no direction, Geralt was suddenly wrenched into the alley behind him. Strong arms gripped his armor and pulled him behind a wagon. 

Geralt pushed away, and his attacker fell. Geralt reached for his sword, but hesitated when he saw the entrance to the market. Too many people, where the fuck was his dagger?

Geralt was suddenly pressed into the alley wall, one arm on his chest and the other around his waist. He grabbed the other persons arm and looked up into cornflower blue eyes. 

“Jaskier,” he breathed.

***

Jaskier’s eyes were glaring, his mouth drawn in a thin line. His hair was slightly longer, brushing his eyebrows, and a scruff was growing across his chin.

The wagon hid Geralt from view, but one odd angle and the soldiers would see him. 

Jaskier turned his head awkwardly, watching the crowd. Geralt took the moment to scan the alley, and found it deserted, except for a cat or two. 

“Jaskier.” He repeated and tried to nudge the man off him. 

Jaskier’s entire body tensed, but before Geralt could ask, he was kissing him.

Geralt was frozen, rigid beneath Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier pressed closer, moving his hands to draw Geralt’s hood farther up. 

Oh, we’re hiding.

Geralt grabbed the mans waist and relaxed. Forcing himself to calm, he leaned slightly into the kiss.

It was chaste, at first. But if they really wanted to sell it... 

Jaskier pushed back, and his tongue slipped into Geralt’s mouth. The kiss deepened, and Geralt could vaguely feel Jaskier’s hands on his chest.

Jaskier’s knee slipped between Geralt’s legs and pressed into him. The only thing keeping Geralt’s own knees from failing him was the other man’s hands holding him up.

Footsteps, and a noise of disgust, before the passerby disappeared. Geralt barely registered the person, focused far more intently on Jaskier’s moving tongue. 

His tongue swiped the roof of Geralt’s mouth, and Geralt bit back a moan. Jaskier’s hands were roaming up and down Geralt’s armor, playing at the straps, but not removing them.

Fuck, this felt good.

When Jaskier pulled back, Geralt was breathless. Without making eye contact, he pressed his face into Geralt’s neck, and Geralt inhaled sharply at the touch.

“Two guards at each gate, four making rounds through the city. Twelve in total. How many do you see?”

Jaskier’s voice was directly in his ear, and neither had moved from their position. Craning his head to see over the wagon, he could see the guards. 

“Four.” His voice was hoarse.

“Here’s the plan.” Jaskier turned his face into Geralt’s neck. “I’m going to cause a distraction. Take your bag and get out of the city. Don’t stop for me, I can disguise myself.”

“They’re after you?”

“Wanted posters went up two weeks ago.”

Shit, how had he missed?

“You got her?” Jaskier switched to Geralt’s other side, blocking their faces from the streets view.

“Yes.”

Jaskier’s hand slipped into his pocket and pressed something round into Geralt’s hand.

“Give this to her, she’ll know what it means.”

“Jaskier-“

“Don’t wait for me.” And he was gone, leaving Geralt alone and breathless in an empty alley.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
